


The World Must Be Peopled

by Ravenclawsome



Category: Nothing Much to Do
Genre: F/M, Future Fic, Pregnancy, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-23
Updated: 2015-01-23
Packaged: 2018-03-08 16:49:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3216353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ravenclawsome/pseuds/Ravenclawsome
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Beatrice and Benedick discuss their baby. Their tiny, adorable, still-in-Bea's-tummy baby.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The World Must Be Peopled

“Beatrice,” Benedick said, a look of complete seriousness on his face, “I think this baby is coming between us.”

It was true. The two were lying on their bed, facing each other so that Beatrice’s huge, pregnant belly bumped up against Ben’s stomach.

“If you make that joke one more time, I’m leaving you,” Beatrice smiled, sleepily.

“What? Come on, if you’re going to leave me over a joke, it should be a better one than that.”

“Oh yeah, like what?”

Benedick thought about it for a minute, then smiled mischievously at her.

“I had a really good one the other day.”

“Do tell.”

“I was thinking that I should sing your song to you.”

“What?” Beatrice’s eyes had been drifting slowly closed, but now she opened them wide to stare at her husband. “You want to sing me ‘Way To Tell You?’”

“No, I want to sing you ‘SONG.’”

“And why is that?”

“Well, think about it,” Benedick said, chuckling before he’d even reached the punchline. He pointed at Beatrice and sang, softly, “ _Oh lady_ ,” he pointed down at her stomach, “ _oh baby.”_ He could barely get the joke out before both of them busted out laughing. 

“You can’t sing that to our baby!” Beatrice said, gasping for air between giggles. “You’ll scar it for life when you talk about being ‘horny for me.’”

“We could change it,” Benedick said. “What rhymes with ‘horny?’”

“I don’t know, story? Corny? Gory? No, that’s not better…”

“ _And maybe I scorned thee,”_ Benedick sang, “ _Pulp Fiction is really gory.”_

Both of them lost it all over again, but Benedick’s laugh dominated the room. 

“Oh!” Beatrice caught her breath, feeling a pressure in her abdomen. “Ben, it’s kicking again!” She grabbed his hand and held it against her stomach, trying to position it correctly so he could feel…

But the baby had stopped.

“Damn it,” Beatrice said. “It’s not kicking anymore.”

Ben’s face fell. 

“It hates me,” he said. “Never even met me, and it already hates me.”

“Oh come on, it doesn’t hate you,” Beatrice said, taking Ben’s hand off her stomach and holding it in her own. The baby had started kicking three months ago, and Ben had never been able to feel it. “It’s just messing with us. A child after our own hearts.” She smiled at him and squeezed his hand, but Ben still looked gloomy. “It’s not going to hate you, stupid. You’re its dad, it’s pretty much contractually obligated to like you.”

“Not true! Ben protested. “You know who’s said ‘I hate my dad?’ Practically everyone.”

“Are you actually serious about this?” Beatrice searched his face for a smile, anything to show he didn’t really believe what he was saying, but she found nothing. “Benedick…”

“I mean, I love my dad, obviously,” Ben said. “But he’s so busy all the time. I don’t know the first thing about being a parent.”

“Ben, we talked about this before I got pregnant. I thought we agreed that nobody knows how the hell to be a parent.”

“I know, but that was before there was an actual, real-life baby in the room,” Benedick said. “It was easier to talk about when you weren’t going to give birth any minute.”

“Oh sure, I’ll just go pop it out right now.”

“You know what I mean.”

“You’re being ridiculous.” Beatrice said. “I’m not going to talk to you about this if you’re going to be ridiculous.”

“Fine,” Ben said. “What do you want to talk about?”

“I don’t know,” Beatrice said, shifting onto her back so she could scoot closer to Ben. “Baby names? We can’t call it ‘it’ forever.”

“Yeah, then it would really hate us.”

“Hey, we’re done with that.”

“You’re right, sorry.” Benedick put his arm around her, and she cuddled up against his shoulder. “So, baby names.”

“What’ve we talked about already?” Beatrice said, wracking her brain. “We should probably make a list, or something.”

“Yeah, that’s what normal parents do, isn’t it? Make lists?” Ben reached over with his other hand and tucked a strand of Beatrice’s hair behind her ear. “What about Charlie?”

“We are not naming our child after your bird-killing scapegoat.”

“Fair enough,” Ben smiled. “You got one?”

“Well, I was thinking…” Bea bit her lip. “Maybe Imogen?”

“Imogen?”

“Yeah,” Beatrice said. “We could call her Ginny.”

Ben grinned broadly. 

“I like it,” he said. “Put it on the imaginary list.”

“Done. Your turn.”

“You’ve got me thinking about _Harry Potter_ now,” Ben said, kissing Beatrice on the cheek. “How do you feel about Severus?”

“Very negatively.”

“I thought so,” he laughed, kissing her again. “What about James, then?”

“Huh,” Beatrice said.” You know, I think I actually really like that.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Beatrice, did we just agree to name our first born child after a _Harry Potter_ character?”

“Well, sure,” Beatrice said. “But it’s subtle.”

“I love you.”

Beatrice laughed, then leaned over and kissed him. 

“So it’s settled,” she said against his lips. “Imogen or James…” She paused. “Hobbes?”

Beatrice pulled back.

“Ben, what are we going to do about last names?” Benedick frowned. 

“I hadn’t thought about it. We could hyphenate, I guess?”

“Are you kidding me?” Beatrice raised her eyebrows. “Duke-Hobbes? Hobbes-Duke? These are two names that were never meant to be hyphenated.”

“Huh, I guess you’re right,” Benedick said. “Cancel the baby, we can’t figure out a last name.”

“You mean I’ve been not-drinking all these months for nothing?”

“Bad luck, love. We’ll try again when we get our shit together.”

“I guess we’re not having kids then,” Beatrice giggled. “Because that’s never going to happen.”

That made Benedick laugh. His ridiculous, loud laugh that Beatrice loved so much. She laughed too, pressing her forehead gently against his. 

The baby kicked. 

“It’s doing it again!” Beatrice shouted, grabbing wildly for Ben’s hand.

“Jesus Bea, that was right in my ear,” said Ben, still recovering from his fit of laughter. He let her take his hand though, and she guided it over her belly. Maybe just this once…

“Shit,” Beatrice said, letting go of Ben’s hand. “What is your problem, baby?”

“Maybe you scared it by shouting so loudly,” Ben said. “It probably tightened up all your uterus muscles.”

“What?” Bea said, bemused. “You don’t know shit about my uterus muscles.”

“I beg to differ.”

“Oh my god,” Beatrice rolled her eyes, but she was grinning at him. “New topic, please.”

“Okay, last names?”

“Right,” Beatrice bit her lip, thinking hard. “Well, I think ‘James Duke’ sounds better than ‘James Hobbes.’”

“Yeah, too many ending ’S’ sounds,” Benedick agreed. “But I think I like ‘Imogen Hobbes’ more than ‘Imogen Duke.’”

“Hmm, I think you’re right,” Beatrice said. “‘Imogen Hobbes,’ she sounds like the protagonist of a quirky young-adult  novel.”

“So what do we do?” Benedick said. “We can’t have two different last names.”

“Why not?” Beatrice asked, propping herself up on her elbows. 

“What?”

“I said, why not? We’ve got two different last names, and we’re still family.”

“So you’re saying we should just give our kids whatever last name sounds better?” Benedick asked.

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

“So, hypothetically, if you were having twins-“

“Which would be insane.”

“Right, but if you were, they might have different last names?”

“Sure, they’d probably appreciate the differentiation.”

“Huh.”

“What,” Beatrice said. “You think that’s dumb?”

“No,” Benedick said, quickly. “Not at all. That actually sounds pretty cool.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Ben said, drawing little patterns along Beatrice’s belly with his finger. “It’d be a shame for the Duke name to die out because of the patriarchy.”

Beatrice reached over and ran her fingers through Ben’s hair. 

“Leo might have kids.”

“Not my point.”

“Hey,” Beatrice said. “You know what we should name it?”

Ben looked up at her. She had that face, like she could hardly contain what she was going to say next.

“What?” He asked, a little hesitantly.

“Calvin.”

“Calvin?” Ben wrinkled his nose. “Why would you want to name our first child, our very first child in the entire world, _Calvin_?

“Because,” Beatrice said, barely keeping it together. “Then he’d be _Calvin Hobbes.”_

The room was silent for a moment as Benedick processed her words. Then the two of them exploded with laughter. 

“I’ve been waiting eleven years to make that joke!” Beatrice gasped.

“I can’t breathe!” said Ben, his laugh filling the room like nothing else ever could.

And the baby kicked.

Beatrice stopped laughing and stared down at her stomach, not sure if she was imagining things or not. Ben hadn’t noticed, he had his face buried in a pillow to try and dampen the sounds of his laughter.

The baby kicked again.

“Ben,” Beatrice said, quietly. “Don’t stop laughing.”

“I don’t… think I can…” Ben’s voice came through the pillow. 

Beatrice grabbed his hand and set it gently on her stomach. “ _Come on, baby,”_ she thought. “ _Your dad loves you so much already, help me prove he’s an idiot for thinking you could ever hate him.”_

For a second, Beatrice thought it wasn’t going to work.

And then the baby, their tiny, adorable baby, kicked. 

Benedick gasped. 

He brought his head up from the pillow and stared at his hand like he’d never seen it before.

“Bea,” he whispered. “I _felt_ it.”

He looked up at her, and he was so incredulous that Beatrice could practically feel his joy spilling over into her. Marriage was weird. 

“Bea,” he said again. “ _There’s a tiny person in there_.”

“I know!” She said, beaming at him. “A tiny person who likes your laugh!”

“What?” Benedick said, distractedly. “What are you talking about?”

“Your laugh,” Beatrice said, leaning forward and touching her forehead to his again. “It’s been kicking every time you laugh.”

Ben was speechless. He kept his hand on her stomach, caressing it with his thumb.

“It loves you,” Beatrice whispered. “Never even met you, and it already loves you.”

 

 


End file.
